"Oh, Grandfather, Grandfather!" screamed the little boy, "what are you
doing?"

"Quick, set fire! thrust your brand in!" said the grandfather.

Yone thought his dear grandfather had lost his mind, and he began to sob;
but a little Japanese boy always obeys, so though he sobbed, he thrust his
torch in, and the sharp flame ran up the dry stalks, red and yellow. In an
instant, the field was ablaze, and thick black smoke began to pour up, on
the mountain side. It rose like a cloud, black and fierce, and in no time
the people below saw that their precious ricefields were on fire. Ah, how
they ran! Men, women, and children climbed the mountain, running as fast
as they could to save the rice; not one soul stayed behind.

And when they came to the mountain top, and saw the beautiful rice-crop
all in flames, beyond help, they cried bitterly, "Who has done this thing?
How did it happen?"

"I set fire," said the old man, very solemnly; and the little grandson
sobbed, "Grandfather set fire."

But when they came fiercely round the old man, with "Why? Why?" he only
turned and pointed to the sea. "Look!" he said.

They all turned and looked. And there, where the blue sea had lain, so
calm, a mighty wall of water, reaching from earth to sky, was rolling in.
No one could scream, so terrible was the sight. The wall of water rolled
in on the land, passed quite over the place where the village had been,
and broke, with an awful sound, on the mountain side. One wave more, and
still one more, came; and then all was water, as far as they could look,